This Moment
by mercia12591
Summary: If Mary thought Francis would simply let her go, she has another thing coming...


**Author's Note:**

**Disclaimer **I own, zip, Nada, nothing. If I DID own REIGN there'd be no fictitious and overly contrived love-triangle inserted in an actual historical love story of two young royals who actually existed and who were, despite having an arranged marriage, actually in love with one another…

**RATING **This story is rated M. Seriously, so take heed and read at your own risk!

**This Moment**

**A REIGN FRANCIS ANDMARYFIC**

She'd been surprised to find him in her chambers, no one had heard from him in two months after all, not since Mary had openly supported Diane's bid for Sabastian's legitimization…

Then a few moments ago she walked into her bedchamber when suddenly she was aware of someone behind her, pushing her hair over one shoulder, as soft lips pressed against the side of her neck. Her corset was undone and warm hands slid under the bodice of her dress to stroke the small of her back.

She quickly turned around, but was it was already too late "Franc….." His mouth caught hers; his tongue slid in and began to ruthlessly plunder, over her teeth, and the roof of her mouth, then back to mesh and tangle with hers once again. Wrapping his arms tight around her waist he brought her flush against him.

Letting her mouth go, he moved forward, capturing her against the door before pressing his body hard against hers. Her eyes were wide, her lips moist from his kisses "Fran…" Her voice was once again cut off by his mouth plundering hers.

Slipping his hands down her front he pushed her bodice down, allowing his palms and fingertips to gloss over the full round globes. They moaned into each other's mouths while tongues danced and flirted. His mouth lifted allowing her to breathe, while his lips nuzzled across her cheek and zeroed in on her earlobe. His teeth and lips nibbled and sucked on the lobe, his hands softly squeezed and massaged her breasts, his thumbs stroked over and around the nipples, encouraging them to become firmer and stiffer at his teasing.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispered; continuing to lightly roll her nipples in his fingers.

She gasped for air but didn't answer.

"Sweetheart, do you want me to stop?" He murmured again; lifting his head to find her eyes were shut tight. He sat his open palms underneath her breasts then slid them up and over the globes, down and up again, repeating the action over and over; enjoying the full weight of her breasts in his hands, and they way they swelled slightly as her excitement increased. Mary was a very sensual woman, and in the week they'd been sleeping together, before Nostradamus' prophecy came to light, he'd come to know her body well. He knew all her hot spots, the ones that sent her almost crazy, and the ones that had her almost purring.

"I…." She panted "…Francis, what are you…"

He let her go, stepped back minutely, grasped the bottom of his shirt, pulled it over his head and once again stepped forward. Clasping her hands with his he held them above her head and keeping her pressed against the door, softly chafed his chest against her breasts. She let out a deep moan and pressed her head hard into his shoulder, he groaned at the sensation of her firm ripe breasts softly massaged against his chest, while her diamond hard nipples dragged with each movement "God you feel luscious; do you like it Mary?" She nodded, her lips moved against his shoulder silently.

"Put your arms around me, I want your hands on my skin." He let go of her arms and they slipped around his waist, her hands stroked up and down, causing his lean back muscles to ripple and bunch.

His lips and teeth attacked her neck and earlobe; and shifting his body to the side, his hand slid down her torso and inside her panties.

Her voice was little more than a whisper; she was almost wheezing but still trying to speak "We….Fra….we…." Her voice trailed off when his hand settled on her mound. His mouth once again crushed hers; lips, teeth and tongue caressing and winding over each other's, while his fingers raked through the curls, tugging and massaging gently, before moving down to find heat drenched flesh.

His finger plunged into her warm wet entrance, his mouth lifted from hers and latched onto her breast again, sucking strongly. Becoming impatient with the restriction, his hand slid up to the waistband of her underwear and ripped them off "Open your legs wider sweetheart." She did as he asked; unable to deny him as his mouth clamped onto the other breast, his hand moved back down, his finger plunged back in, twisting and turning, rubbing over the tissues. "I want you on the bed." Not giving her time to reply, he lifted her up, and slipped her onto the bed. Quickly he removed his hose, and joined her. Kneeing her legs apart, his hand once again returned to the flesh between her thighs.

He pushed two fingers inside, rotating and plunging them in and out, moving them faster, deeper, causing the moisture to flow faster until his palm was coated. Her eyes were shut tight, her head pushed deep into the pillow, her teeth clamped on to her bottom lip. Seeing the flush on her breasts, the tell tale signs that she was on the edge, his thumb began to rasp gently against the hard blood filled nub, stroking and grazing over it. His knees pushed out, forcing her legs further apart, keeping her spread open to his hungry graze and tormenting fingers.

When her hips began to lift insistently, he quickly lifted his hand to his mouth, licked the middle digit making it moist with saliva before his hand returned to the flesh between her legs. His finger flicked the very tip of the nub, before running around the soaking flesh, circling, skimming and flicking over the deep red bud again and again until she shrieked in a long loud high pitched wail.

Ignoring her shrill cry, her trembling body; his hands held her thighs firmly apart and diving down his tongue ran from the top to bottom of her sex, lapping over the whole area, between the folds, up and down, over and around. Pressing his mouth hard against her centre, his tongue and lips sucked and sipped, trying to consume every part of her, pushing her higher and higher. Letting go of one thigh, his fingers once again began to plunge in and out of her, while his tongue continued to rasp over her sex.

When she screamed again, he knelt up quickly and slammed into her, withdrew and thrust back inside harder until he was in her to the hilt, then he stopped. Holding steady he ignored the needs of his body, and managed to instill enough royal authority into his voice despite the panting gasps tearing out of his chest "Open your eyes Mary."

At the command in his voice her eyes snapped open, they were now completely black, the iris's totally obliterated by the pupils "We're getting married in a week." Her head shook back and forth, her mouth opened but no words came out.

"I love you Sweeting, and you're going have to get used to it because I'm not letting you go." Holding her eyes steady with his, he began to pound into her, thrusting strong, impaling her hard over and; while deep guttural groans tore out of his throat. Her knees rose up, her feet gripped into the mattress; his hands slid down the inside of her legs, gripped her inner thighs and held them firmly apart. Leaning forward he began to slam into her, harder, faster, deeper, circling his hips, thrusting and retreating; her hips rose and fell in rhythm with his. Knowing she was close, hearing her voice pleading with him, his hips moved faster, barely withdrawing before slamming forward again, her hips continued to crash into his, her body began to tremble and with a sobbing scream she finally lay gasping, heedless of him grasping her bottom to piston his hips faster and harder until he pushed into her one last time, milked and caressed by her twitching inner tissues.

Falling down on top of her, their breaths continued to wheeze out while their hearts hammered against each others. He rolled them to their sides, but kept her loins pressed firmly against his, giving himself the pleasure of feeling every last spasm and contraction from her inner muscles around his shaft.

When she was finally still, he pulled out and let go, she fell on her back, he fell on his but kept his body in direct contact with hers and gave them both time to settle "God Mary, I can't let you go, did you really think I would?" He breathed out heavily. When his heart calmed he lifted up on one elbow and looked down at her "I won't let you go Mary, if I have to keep you in bed for the rest of our life I will, but you're not getting away from me."

"I don't want you to die." She said softly, opening her eyes.

"So you try and save my life, by ripping away everything that meant anything to me?" He sounded calm, but she could sense his anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

She reeled in shock at his words. "That's not fair! That's not how it was…I set you free so you could marry another, someone not constantly shadowed by danger. Everything I did was for you to have a long and happy life…"

"Well then I'm sorry to tell you, my darling but you failed miserably in your objective. Happiness does not exist for me apart from you…and as for my life, however long or short it happens to be, that belonged to France…" Francis had left the bed during his speech and was pulling on his nightshirt while handing Mary her shift.

She took it from him, averting her eyes, unable to meet his gaze; his last barb though left unsaid for the most part hit its mark. "I had no idea that Diane's drive for Bash's legitimization included more than just being officially recognized as your father's son…" It sounded lame even to her own ears, but she pressed on, desperate to make him understand. "I did not think she'd try to change the line of succession as well…"

_But you __**should **__have known, _her inner voice chided, _You should have suspected at the very least…_

"It matters little now…" Francis told her, his blue eyes seemed to flash in the evening gloom.

Mary had donned her shift and went to him. "Francis you are still legitimate, all that changes is the succession…" She stopped as she saw the grin on his face.

"Mary, Mary," he said, "you really don't know me at all if you really thought I'd stand by and let my half-brother take both the crown and you…"

"There's nothing you can do, Francis the pope is already on his way and…"

"Tell me, Sweetheart," he said, acting as if she hadn't spoken, "Were you planning to marry my dear legitimized brother, maybe quench this 'thirst' Diane keeps referring to?"

"Of course I'd never marry Bash!" Mary exclaimed. "What do you mean 'thirst'?"

"So your plans for a new alliance included…what exactly?" He enquired ignoring the last part of her question.

"Spain…" she said uneasily, "your mother is helping me secure…"

He laughed and the sound made Mary shiver for some reason. "I'm happy to see you and my mother found some common ground at last…it's not good for anyone to be always at odds with their in-laws…"

"Well since Catherine will not be my mother-in-law you needn't worry about that…"

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that, Mary…"

"I can't marry you, Francis," she told him, trying to keep her voice strong while avoiding those intense blue eyes. "I won't risk your death…" Her voice trailed off as he pulled her into his arms once more. His nearness was so intoxicating. He made it difficult to think, to remember why this shouldn't be happening…

"Fortunately that is not your choice to make." Francis told her as the arm not locked about her waist caught her chin, gently, but firmly, forcing her to look at him. "It is my life and my choice and it was made long ago…"

"No, Francis, you must…"

"Our marriage is a done deal, Mary," he told her, "we were married yesterday, by proxy. It was sanctioned by the pope and witnessed by your own mother…"

"Your lying!" She accused, shocked, bewildered and frightened. Why couldn't he understand? She'd endure a thousand different tortures, live through a thousand different hells if it meant keeping him safe and alive!

These past two months Mary had come to realize that she could live with Francis' anger, hate and indifference, but she absolutely would not be able to live in a world in which he does not exist.

"Francis, tell me you are lying, please!" She was begging, desperate.

He gazed back at her without flinching, every inch the Dauphin of France. "I am not…"

Mary felt her legs start to give way beneath her. Had all her sacrifices truly been for nothing?

Francis saw her predicament and guided her to the nearest chair, pushing her lightly into it. Kneeling before the chair he stroked her cheek gently. "It pains me to know that the news of our marriage distresses you. I wish I could've done it another way, but you left me few options…"

_No! No…_Mary thought wildly, Nostradamus' prophecy filling her mind. _His fate cannot be sealed…There must be a way…"_

"It's not valid," she told him, grasping at straws, "no marriage, especially one contracted by proxy, is valid until after the bedding ceremony…I don't care who officiated it…"

Francis' gaze turned to the passion rumpled bed they'd vacated mere minutes before.

Mary flushed, but stood her ground. "There were no witnesses and I'd deny with my dying breath that anything ever happened between us…"

"It's a good thing then that my witnesses trump even your word, wife," he said lightly, but she couldn't miss the flash of hurt in those beautiful blue pools. "You can come out now," Francis called out and the wall panel hiding the entrance to the tunnels creaked open to reveal Mary of Guise and two Bishops, one wearing the seal of Scotland and one from France.

Mary Stuart stood stunned as she gazed into her mother's eyes.

"Gentlemen," Francis said, addressing the two bishops, "I trust you saw all you needed to…"

The two clergy nodded, looking just a bit flustered. They'd seen a lot more than they'd bargained for, actually. The young Dauphin also put paid to the rumors about him being a passionless invalid.

"Excellent," Francis said, seeming in very good humor. "My father and the Pope would no doubt like to speak to you then."

They bowed and left the room, Mary not having moved an inch.

"There will be a court ceremony in a week, on Mary's birthday, filled with all the pomp and ceremony which befit a queen and so regale the masses, but in the eyes of God and the Church your daughter and I are one…" Francis said, addressing his mother-in-law. "I hope that pleases you…"

"Indeed it does, Majesty." Mary of Guise replied and her daughter was surprised to detect genuine respect in her mother's gaze and voice as Scotland's queen regent accepted the kiss her new son-in-law placed on her hand.

"I'll leave the two of you to talk," Francis said as he exited the chamber.

"A remarkable young man," Mary of Guise remarked after a few minutes, breaking the strained silence which follows the Dauphin's exit.

"Yes, he is," Mary replied stiffly, "and you just signed his death warrant!"

"Ahh, yes," her mother's voice took on a decidedly condescending tone. "Francis told me about this prediction of his mother's confidant that your union would bring about his death…"

"And you don't care…"

"No I don't," Mary of Guise snapped, "and more to the point neither does your husband! By God, Mary do you have any idea how hurt he was, how absolutely furious when he realized you threw everything aside, your country, this allegiance, an allegiance we need desperately, for the sake of superstition!"

"I was trying to keep him…"

"From dying, yes we know!" Her mother cut her off unimpressed. "In case it has escaped your notice child, you are a Queen, but you are not God. If Francis is destined to die young then nothing you do, or don't do, can change that…all you did by so foolishly galloping off into the woods with a bastard was waste three months of happiness with the man you love…"

Regarding her daughter's suddenly ashen face Mary of Guise watched her words sink in and hit its intended target. "That you love Francis, I have no doubt, not after the display I witnessed in that bed a short while ago. You practically melted at his touch…"

Mary Stuart flushed, but her mother smiled at her almost kindly. "Do not be ashamed, child, you and your Francis are the lucky ones…do not waste any more time…"

**(One Month later – the LorraineValley, Château Chenonceau)**

Mary Stuart Valois looked out across the waters of the lake as she stood on the balcony of the bedchamber she shared with her husband. She'd never seen a more breathtaking view.

As she watched the sunrise her mind drifted over the events of the last month. As Francis promised they had a glittering ceremony on her birthday, before the entire court. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't still worried about Nostradamus' prophecy, but she'd come to see that her mother and her husband was right. It was no use worrying about the future and forgetting to live in the present.

Francis was good at keeping her grounded in the present. He was an amazing man and in spite of herself and her best efforts to protect her heart, she loved her husband even more now than she did before learning of that damnable prophecy.

As for Sabastian, his bid for succession to the throne of France may have failed, but he did get the title of 'Duke' and a castle in Marsay, where he and his mother now stayed, having been barred from court by a furious Henry…

Lola, who corresponded with Sabastian, sometimes passed on information to her, but Mary never asked.

Bash won a title, but lost his father's respect, while Francis…

In the aftermath of the crisis caused by her running off on their wedding day and Diane's subsequent schemes to put her own son on the throne after Henry, Francis acted like a true king, proving that he'd do whatever was needed, even if that meant going to the Scottish Court and fetching Mary of Guise himself, together they petitioned the pope and the rest was history…

"Enjoying the view, wife?" Francis' voice whispered in her ear as his arms circled her wait from behind.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to such a glorious sight," she told him as she leaned back against him with a smile.

"It is beautiful," he agreed before turning her around in his arms, "but it doesn't hold a candle to you…come back to bed."

The look in his blue eyes made her shiver with desire and Mary did not need to be invited twice. Moments later as he lay her on their bed covering her body with his, she found herself clinging to him. They may not have forever, but they had this moment and it was enough for now.

It was enough, because it had to be…

**THE END**


End file.
